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Thursday, 26 December 2013

I’m currently in southern Spain, between Malaga and
Marbella, and looking southwards across a Mediterranean which is calm and blue
today but which yesterday was grey and overcast, with large white breakers
pounding on the beach. I needed no reminder of just how rough the Mediterranean
can be – back in 1977 I went through a Force 12 gale in a 165ft. dynamically-positioned
diving support vessel, the Kattenturm.
I was on the enclosed upper bridge but the only access to it was external, so
that the captain, first officer and I myself were essentially marooned there
for hours on end as waves and spray pounded it.

Kattenturm 1977 - one of the first dynamically positioned diving support vessels

The Mediterranean is narrow at the point I now am and
the mountains of the Moroccan shore are visible on a clear day. The Mediterranean
is funnelling towards the Straits of Gibraltar, and I’m looking out towards the
location of the Battle of Malaga on 24th August 1704, perhaps the
largest sea battle fought up to that time. The proximity to Gibraltar is
significant since it was the capture of “The Rock” at the beginning of that
month by a combined British-Dutch naval force that led to the battle. A heavy
naval bombardment preceded landing of marines at two points, one force launching
an attack southwards from the isthmus and another northwards from Europa Point
at Gibraltar’s southern tip. The Spanish defenders were heavily outnumbered and
outgunned and the governor surrendered. Gaining possession of Gibraltar was to
be not only one of the key events of the War of Spanish Succession (1701-14)
but one which was to have major strategic significance for Britain in all
subsequent wars and right up to our own day.

Dutch (left) and British (right) marines landing at Europa Point 1st August 1704

This strategic significance was immediately realised by the
French and Spanish, and the need for immediate recapture of Gibraltar was
decided on. A combined French and Spanish fleet sailed west towards Gibraltar from
their base at Malaga – several ships being towed out to sea by some of the
large galleys present. The total French-Spanish force consisted of over 60 sailing
warships, including some 17 1st and 2nd Rate vessels, and
no less than 24 rowed galleys. Nominal command was by the 28-year old Louis
Alexandre, Comte de Toulouse, a legitimated son of Louis XIV by one of his mistresses.
It is more likely however that actual command was by Toulouse’s deputy, Victor-Marie
d'Estrées, a competent 44-year old sailor whose experience extended back to the
Franco-Dutch War of the 1670s.

Alerted by intelligence that the French and Spanish had left
Malaga, the combined British-Dutch fleet moved eastwards from Gibraltar to meet
them. Overall command was under the 54-year old British Admiral George Rooke,
whose experience was as long as that of d'Estrées. Apart from his capture of
Gibraltar, Rooke had already scored a notable blow at the French-Spanish
alliance by destroying a Spanish treasure fleet at Vigo Bay in 1702. Rooke’s
combined British-Dutch force was roughly equal in numbers to the enemy – almost
60 ships – but had fewer 1st and 2nd rates and ammunition
stocks had been depleted by the recent bombardment at Gibraltar.

The Battle of Malaga - as painted by Isaac Sailmaker (1633-1721)

The fleets were to meet in two continuous parallel lines –
the preferred formation of the period – and favourable initial manoeuvring by
the British-Dutch force gave it the advantage of an upwind position. The battle
consisted of a long and bloody pounding match, ship against ship, and there
were no attempts to break the enemy line, as was to be such a feature of
Nelsonian tactics almost a century later. The casualties were to be high – over
2500 dead or wounded for the British-Dutch and 1600 for the French-Spanish. No
ship was sunk or captured by either side though many were very seriously
damaged and left barely seaworthy, one being a Dutch vessel which exploded the
following day. Little part was played in the action by the galleys – the rowers
of which must have endured hell, even if their vessels were not engaged – and
they appear to have been concentrated at the rear of the French-Spanish line.
Four galleys did however stage a concerted attack on a Dutch ship, the Gelderland, but were driven off by
gunfire.

Exhausted and battered, the fleets disengaged, the French
and Spanish returning to Toulon and Malaga and the British-Dutch to Gibraltar.
In view of the heavier British-Dutch casualties the French were to claim a
victory, but this could only be in the narrow tactical sense, for the action
had prevented recapture of Gibraltar. The Rock was to remain in British and Dutch
hands throughout the war, and in British hands thereafter. The analogy with the
Battle of Jutland – also arguably a tactical defeat for the Royal Navy but an
undoubted strategic victory – is very pronounced.

Notable as this battle was for its long-lasting strategic
implications, and for the huge number of ships involved, and for the high
casualty toll, and for the participation of galleys (perhaps the last time
British ships faced them?), this battle seems to have faded from popular
historic awareness. Looking out today on a calm sea I cannot but think sadly of
the 4000-plus casualties and the misery they represented for so many thousands
more and how different world history might have been in succeeding centuries
had the outcome been otherwise.

HMS Ark Royal and some of her Swordfish in 1939 before outbreak of war

There’s one other striking link with British naval history
as I look out from here. On 14th November 1941 the Royal Navy
carrier Ark Royal sank following a torpedo
attack by a U-Boat the previous day. She lies some 30 miles due east of
Gibraltar. Luckily she had remained afloat long enough for her entire
complement to be taken off. In the little over two years of wartime service the
Ark Royal had an almost unrivalled
record of intense action, including launching the Swordfish strike that
crippled the Bismarck.

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Though paddle-vessels are almost invariably referred to as “paddle
steamers”, some had distinctly more modern forms of propulsion. I found this
somewhat of a surprise recently when, in the process of researching 19th
Century paddlers, I came across a layout drawing – as shown here – from the mid-1930s.
This shows the world’s first diesel-electric propelled paddle vessel, the Talisman. She was designed for service
on the Clyde and owned by the London and North Eastern Railway. She was
commissioned in 1935 and served until 1966, being based at Craigendoran and
sailing to Dunoon, Rothesay and the Kyles of Bute.

Talisman's most dramatic service was however during WW2 when she
was impressed into the Royal Navy as HMS Aristocrat.
She served not only as an anti-aircraft ship but as a headquarters command ship
during the D-Day landings in 1944. It’s hard to imagine such a peaceful looking
vessel acting in a warlike role!

There are several good photographs of her on http://www.paddlesteamers.info/Talisman35.htm
but I have not included them as they appear
to be copyrighted. If you are interested however they are well worth viewing.

A first-hand account of HMS Aristocrat’s service off the Normandy beaches can be found on: http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/75/a2717075.shtml

Saturday, 14 December 2013

I read widely
and, as befits my interest in the career of Admiral Sir Nichols Dawlish
(1845-1918), I am particularly interested in naval affairs in the 1860-1918 period.
A single reference to a person or event in a book or web-page can often spark
my interest in learning more, often leading me down unexpected and fascinating
paths. Given the wealth of resources on the Internet and my access to the storehouse
of material in the wonderful London Library, I can usually follow the line of
enquiry to a level of understanding and detail that satisfies my curiosity. “Usually”
is the operative word however and on occasion I run into a “brick wall”, so that
my curiosity remains aroused but unsatisfied.

A current
example of such frustration is my curiosity about the life of Rear Admiral Sir Thomas Lyne, (1870- 1955) who was the first
man in the Royal Navy to rise from the lower deck to flag rank. His story is a fascinating
one, but for me at least, has major gaps.

Lyne joined the
service as a boy seaman, presumably in the early 1880s, and by 1902 had advanced
to the warrant rank of Gunner – a respected one but holding a “warrant” from the
Admiralty rather than a commission from the monarch. As such, warrant officers
messed together and not in the wardroom and there was a wide social gulf between
commissioned officers and warrant officers. It appears however that command of
a vessel, albeit a small one, could be entrusted to a warrant officer and in
1902 Lyne was in command of Torpedo Boat TB.060, based at the Cape of Good
Hope.

HMS Lightning 1877 - torpedoes were dropped rather than launched from tubes

TB.060 was one of a batch of twenty torpedo boats, TBs,041-060, which were built by Thorneycraft Ltd. in 1885-6 during one of the “Russian War Scares” which were an almost regular feature of the period. Thorneycraft had essentially invented the fast steam torpedo-boat, starting with HMS Lightning on 1876 and progressing with a series of ever more capable craft.

The TBs,041-060
series were known as.125-Footers, specifications as follow:

Displacement:
60 tons

Dimensions:
125 ft X 12.5 ft X6 ft

Machinery:
750 hp, making 21.5 knots maximum

Armament: Four
14” torpedo tubes in two pairs, Two twin-barrelled Nordenvelt guns

Crew: 16 men.

To enhance manoeuvrability
these vessels had two rudders, one positioned to each side of the single-propeller
and this seems to have given a “tunnel effect” that maximised the power
delivery.

TB. 057 - sister of TB 060, which would have looked very similar

By 1902 these
vessels were obsolescent, despite reboilering, but many were to remain in
service as patrol vessels during the Great War, being scrapped only in 1919-20.

HMS Dreadnought (1875) leaving Malta and cleared for action

Gunner Lyne,
as he was 1902, may have owed his command of TB.060 to the fact to the admiration
of Admiral Sir Arthur Moore, Commander-in-Chief, Cape of Good Hope and West
Coast of Africa Station from 1901. In earlier years Lyne had served as coxswain
to Moore when the latter was in command of HMS Dreadnought (1875) in the late-1880s.The 1901-02 period represented
the latter stage of the Boer War, and one of the luminaries who visited it as
an observer was Rudyard Kipling. Guerrilla activity by the Boers was disrupting
rail travel at this time and in view of Kipling’s fame TB.060, under Lyne’s
command, was used to carry him up South Africa’s east coast to minimise risk.(This
information comes from an internet source but I’ve found no coverage of the
incident in Andrew Lycett’s Kipling biography).

Shortly
afterwards, in early 1902, TB.060’s propeller fell off when she was on “a most
inhospitable coast”. I have not been able to determine where exactly this happened
but in view of the vessel’s subsequent movements it appeared to have been on the
west coast, north of Cape Town. Since TB.060 had only a single propeller she
could no longer rely on steam power, and as wireless telegraphy was in its
infancy, there was no way of sending a message for help. Loss must have
appeared almost inevitable.

Undeterred
however, Gunner Lyne managed to construct a jury rig, with which, under sail,
he managed to get TB.060 and her crew back safely to the harbour at Saldhana
Bay. The achievement was all the more remarkable since the length to breadth
ratio of this fragile vessel was 10:1, which would have made handling under
sail extremely difficult. I have not seen any photographs of the remarkable rig
– if any exist – and am not sure what materials were employed.

Lyne’s
achievement, and his indomitability, leadership and ingenuity were rightly
regarded as outstanding. His reward was award of a commission and of promotion
to the rank of Lieutenant. His career progressed in the following years and he
was promoted to Captain in 1919, and advanced to Rear Admiral on retirement. He
was knighted in 1935. As yet I have been unable to trace details of his assignments
in these years. He does appear to have published a memoir called “Something
about a sailor”, which I am now hoping to track down.

Admiral Lyne
must have been an inspirational character but there are huge gaps in my
knowledge about him. How and when did he join the navy? What was his career in the
years prior to command of TB.060, for his progress in these years was as rapid
as after his commissioning? Where did M.060 lose its propeller? What did the jury
rig consist of? And what was his career path following his commissioning? Dis
he experience discrimination due to his background and, if so, how did he cope with
it?

I’m
fascinated by this splendid man and I’ll keep investigating when I can. There
is a very short Wikipedia entry on him but no photograph. The account I’ve
given above is obviously incomplete. If any reader of this blog knows more about
Admiral Lyne I’d be very glad to hear from them.

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

Yesterday, en route to my favourite research venue, the
London Library in St. James’ Square, I took a short cut through a narrow
passageway from Green Park through St. James’ Place. I had passed the entrance to the place countless times before but had never walked through it before. This short thoroughfare is less than a hundred
yards long, and yet in this short distance I found links to an amazing and
unlikely combination of eminent previous occupants, made possible by the admirable
London practice of mounting commemorative plaques. It suddenly struck me that here, as on so many
such London streets, one can be confronted with history that one has walked
past so often without even noticing it.

On
this occasion I pulled out my mobile ‘phone and recorded the plaques I saw.

In the white house to the left Churchill lived for three
years, starting as a boy of six. In this period his father, Lord Randolph, was
building his career as a leading politician and his mother was a leading and
scandalous socialite of the period.

In the darker house to the right, but two generations earlier, lived William
Huskisson, a worthy if dull politician who is mainly remembered for being the first
victim of a railway accident. During the opening ceremonies for the world’s first
passenger railway, the Manchester and Liverpool, in 1830, Huskisson stepped
into the path of George Stephenson’s locomotive, the Rocket, and was fatally
injured.

A little further down the street I found the residence of
Sir Francis Chichester, best remembered today for his solo global
circumnavigation in 1966-67 but who long before that time had established a
reputation as a pioneer aviator.

Chichester and Chopin houses to the right

Two houses further along I saw a most unlikely memorial, one
to Frederic Chopin, who stayed there shortly before his death.

And finally, on St. James' Square, before I dropped in to the Library, I saw a familiar plaque commemorating Ada,
Countess of Lovelace(please excuse the fuzzy image). She is remembered today not as Lord Byron’s
daughter, but as a noted mathematician who chiefly known for her work on
Charles Babbage's early mechanical general-purpose computer, the “Analytical
Engine”. Her notes on the engine include
what is now regarded as the first algorithm intended to be processed by a
machine. Because of this, she is often described as the world's first computer
programmer.

Ada - a more beautiful and intelligent daughter than her wretched father deserved

Not an insignificant brush with history in the space of a
few hundred yards! The man who is tired of London is indeed tired of life!

Friday, 29 November 2013

Technology, old or new, fascinates me and indeed the cutting-edge technology of teh Victorian period is central to my writing in the Dawlish Chronicles (cover-design for the second of which is now in hand - the last step towards publication). Current developments are equally inspirational and a fortnight ago,
when visiting the RAC Club in London, I was very impressed when I saw the Winston
Wong Bio Inspired Vehicle (BIV) on display, as shown in the photographs. This
unique vehicle, together with two wheeled ones, completed the first
there-and-back vehicle crossing of Antarctica in late 2012.

The 10-man team of the
Moon Regan Transantarctic Expedition team left Union Glacier on 25 November and
arrived, via the Geographic South Pole, on the Ross Ice Shelf on 9 December.
They then retraced their tracks and completed the return journey on 17
December. In all they covered nearly 4,000 km and travelled for 20 days, 12
hours and 30 minutes and a variety of scientific investigations were undertaken
on the way by a team from Imperial College, London.

A century after Scott, Amundsen and Shackleton, the spirit of adventure and scientific enquiry is still alive!

The vehicle, driven by a single person, is named for the
Expedition’s science partner, Winston Wong, a leading Taiwanese businessman and
alumnus and generous donor to Imperial College London.

Details of the vehicle appear to be as follow:

A bio-fuelled Rotax 914 engine driving a three-blade
variable-pitch propeller for a top speed of 84mph;

The minimum possible number of moving parts;

Three skis with independent suspension and a spiked brake
for efficient stopping;

Weight approximately 700kgs, size is approximately 4.5 m long and 4.5 m
wide;

Friday, 22 November 2013

This week's blog entry is more on a military than a nautical theme but it reflects my continuingfascinationwith all aspects of 19th Century history.

During the week, while leafing through a late-Victorian book on battles
of the 19th Century, I was struck by an article the Battle of
Salamanca on July 22nd 1812 by a respected military commentator,
Major Arthur Griffiths. By this time Wellington, having broken out of Portugal
by his capture of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz earlier in the year, was thrusting
deep into Spain. At Salamanca he was to confront – and thrash – the army of the
French Marshal Marmont. This victory was to open the road for further advance
towards France itself.

One is invariably impressed by the clarity and elegance of
expression of writers and war correspondents of this period - I guess we'd all like to be able to write like this! The following extract from the article proved
especially impressive. It deals with the final stages of the battle and with the
role played in it by British cavalry.

British heavy cavalry charging at Salamanca

“The complete overthrow of the French was now near at and it
was accomplished by the masterly tactics of Wellington, who appeared as usual
at the critical point at the critical time. Under his orders a great cavalry
charge put the finishing touch to Maucune’s discomfiture. This charge, led by
Le Marchant’s heavy and Anson’s light cavalry brigades, was one of the most
brilliant feats performed by British cavalry. Napier gives the story in Homeric
language, telling how “a whirling cloud
of dust moved quickly forward, carrying within it the trampling sound of a
charging multitude”; how the horsemen rode down the French infantry “with a terrible clamour and disturbance.
Bewildered and blinded, they cast away their arms, and crowded through the intervals
of the squadrons, stooping and crying out for quarter, while the dragoons, big
men on big horses, rode onwards, smiting with their long, glittering swords in
uncontrollable power.” Le Marchant was killed but there were others to lead
his cavalry on. Packenham, with his infantry, followed close, and, after a
bitter struggle, which laid many low, the French were completely defeated. Guns
and standards were captured and 2,000 prisoners; “the divisions under Maucune no longer existed as a military body.” These
were the memorable forty minutes which sufficed to conquer the French left…”

It should be noted that the most notable casualty of this
action, Major-General John Le Marchant (1766 – 1812) was one of the finest
British cavalry commanders of his generation. More important for posterity was
however his role in establishing the first British military academy, initially
at High Wycombe and Great Marlow, later combined in what was to become the Royal
Military Academy at Sandhurst. The latter remains the world’s premier institution
of its type and generations of officers past and future owe a debt of gratitude to Le
Marchant for his achievement.

(The Battle of Salamanca provides the background for Bernard
Cornwell’s novel “Sharpe’s Sword”)

Friday, 15 November 2013

In an earlier blog I wrote about the now-forgotten
disaster on the Thames in September 1878 when the excursion paddle steamer
Princess Alice was sunk in a collision with the loss of some 640 lives. This
was however the second major maritime disaster in British waters that year, for
some three months earlier the German ironclad Grosser Kurfürst was also sunk in collision in the English Channel,
taking with her some 270 of her crew.

SMS Grosser Kurfürst under sail

In this period Germany’s navy was still one of the second
rank, intentionally so since the “Iron Chancellor”, Bismarck, saw the newly
established German Empire as primarily a land power, with no significant maritime
ambitions. The intention to build on a scale to challenge the Royal Navy was still
some two decades in the future and the emphasis was primarily on coastal
defence. A small number of high-quality ironclads formed the backbone of the
fleet and by the late 1870s there was increasing awareness of the potential of
mines and torpedo craft to supplement them.

It should be noted that in this period naval theorists
in Germany, as practically everywhere else, saw the ram as a viable offensive
weapon. This stemmed from a fixation on the extensive ramming involved in the Battle
of Lissa in 1866 when the Austro-Hungarian and Italian fleets were pitted
against each other. Sinking in this manner of the one of the principal Italian ironclads
represented the turning point of the battle. For the next four decades the majority
of naval vessels, large and small, were built with ram bows. What was insufficiently
recognised was that the circumstances which allowed close engagement at Lissa
were unlikely to occur in the future, since the growth in power and accuracy of
naval guns meant that combat would occur at ever increasing ranges. Despite this
rams continued to be viewed by many as effective weapons and as late as 1896 Britain’s
Arrogant class of protected cruisers
were specifically designed to allow ramming, manoeuvrability being enhanced by
provision of an extra rudder at the bows, which were themselves strengthened
for impact.

König Wilhelm at anchor

In practice the ram proved to be more of a hazard to
friends than to enemies, and there were numerous cases of serious damage being
inflicted, sometimes fatally, in collisions. The best known of these was the
loss in 1893of HMS Victoria when
rammed by HMS Camperdown. Fifteen
years before this however a comparable disaster was to occur in sight of the English
shore, on this occasion involving the newly completed German ironclad Grosser Kurfürst.

The Grosser
Kurfürst, a ship-rigged central-citadel ironclad, also powered by a 500 hp
steam engine, was of 7596 tons and 316 ft length. She carried the four 10-inch guns
of her main armament in two turrets amidships. She had been commissioned at
Wilhelmshaven on May 6th 1878 and she set off thereafter on a summer
training cruise, in company with her close sister and squadron flagship Preussen and the older central battery
ironclad König Wilhelm. The latter
was of 10591 tons and 368 ft length, her principal armament being 18 9.4-inch muzzleloaders
located in a central battery. She had been built at the Thames Ironworks in
London in the mid-1860s and had been upgraded since.

The moment of collision

On May 31st 1878 all three vessels were steaming
westwards through the Straits of Dover, König WilhelmandPreussen in
line, withGrosser Kurfürst off to starboard and thus closer to the
English coast. Just off Folkestone the
three ships encountered two sailing vessels in their path. Poor manoeuvring to avoid these craft found
König Wilhelmheading directly
for Grosser Kurfürst, with insufficient time available to turn away.
Impact was unavoidable and König
Wilhelm's ram smashed a large hole
in the Grosser Kurfürst’s flank.
Damage control was still an art of the future and inadequate sealing of Grosser
Kurfürst’s watertight bulkheads caused her to sink in eight minutes. Out of a crew of 500 some 270 were lost.

SMS Grosser Kurfürst sinking

The composer Arthur Sullivan, of Gilbert and
Sullivan fame, witnessed the accident from a ferry he was sailing on, en route to
Paris. He wrote: "I saw it all – saw the unfortunate vessel slowly go
over and disappear under the water in clear, bright sunshine, and the water
like a calm lake. It was too horrible – and then we saw all the boats moving
about picking up the survivors, some so exhausted they had to be lifted on to
the ships”.

Rescue of survivors by fishing craft, König Wilhelm in background

König Wilhelmwas also badly damaged in the collision, suffering
severe flooding forward.Hercaptain considered beaching
her to prevent her sinking, but was assured that her pumps could hold the
flooding to an acceptable level. The ship therefore made for Portsmouth, where
temporary repairs could be effected to allow the ship to return to Germany.

In the
aftermath of the collision, the German navy held a court martialfor Rear Admiral Batsch, the squadron
commander, and for Captains Monts and Kuehne, the commanders of the two ships,
along with Lieutenant Clausa, the first officer aboard Grosser Kurfürst,
to investigate the sinking. Extensive finger-pointing followed, aimed at
sharing or dodging responsibility, and a series of three further court-martials
followed, before the matter was laid to rest.

SMS König Wilhelm as a traing ship, early 1900s

König Wilhelmwas to have a enjoy a long career thereafter, being rebuilt and rearmed
as a heavy cruiser in 1895/6 and later serving as a training vessel, only
finally being scrapped in 1921.

The loss of the Grosser Kurfürst was a tragedy in itself, but the
other tragedy associated with her loss was that the lessons of the disaster
were not learned and that many more ships were to be sunk, and many men were to
die needlessly, before the folly of the ram bow was to be recognised.

Friday, 8 November 2013

HMS Hero and her
sister,HMS Conqueror, both commissioned in the late 1880s, were described by
Dr.Oscar Parkes, the ultimate authority on British battleships, as “two of the most useless turret sips ever
built for the Navy”. Despite this damning evaluation, which was supported by
many officers during her lifetime, HMS Hero
was to achieve a bizarre degree of fame for over another century. The reason
for this had little to do with the unfortunate vessel herself and depended on
her being named on the cap-band of the seaman featured in the logo of Player’s
Navy Cut cigarettes. In late Victorian uniform, the sailor’s head and torso
were seen though a life-belt, with two poorly-defined ironclads in the background,
that on the right possibly HMS Hero
herself.

The cigarettes were launched by the tobacco company John
Player Ltd. in the same period as the ship herself. These were years in which
there public pride and interest in the Navy was growing – and would continue to
do so up the Great War – as evidenced by the popularity of HMS Pinafore and of sailor suits for
children. In the early years the sailor in the logo was apparently sometimes
bearded, sometimes clean-shaven, but the bearded version seems to have been
standardised in 1907 and has continued up to our own day. The name "Navy Cut" originated from a sailors’
practice of binding a mixture of tobacco leaves and leaving them to mature
under pressure. A slice of this slab came to be known as a "cut".

Player's Navy Cut dominates world markets in a late Victorian advestisment

Commercially
successful and widely recognised as the cigarette brand was, the ship associated
with it was to have a much less stellar career. Both Hero and her sister Conqueror
were designed in a period of transition, when there were conflicting views on
how line-battleships should be armed and armoured. Large calibre breech-loading
rifles were coming into their own, breakthroughs in metallurgy were providing
much more effective armour, and compound steam engines were promising greater
power and fuel-efficacy. Smaller-calibre quick-firing guns, up to 6”, were proving their potential and
there was intense debate as to whether the ram was still a viable weapon in
action. Allied to this was the question of tactics – no fleet action had been
fought with such ships and theories abounded as to how to employ them. The
problem was not the availability of technology but rather how disparate available elements were to be integrated into a single concept which would function
efficiently in line with an agreed tactical doctrine.

HMS Hero at sea - and taking on a lot of water

The controversies of the 1880s were to be resolved in the
next decade with the appearance of the Royal
Sovereign class which was to set the line of evolution that almost all
battleships would thereafter follow, not only in Britain but elsewhere as well.
Getting to this point however involved pursuing number of technical and
tactical dead ends, the most notable being perhaps HMS Hero and HMS Conqueror.
Their basic design premise was that they would combine large calibre guns (two 12”)
in a singl rotating turret, strength enough for ramming, a substantial secondary
armament (four 6” quick-firers), six above-water 14” torpedo tubes, a plethora
of small-calibre weapons, heavy armour and, for good measure, a small torpedo-boat
carried on deck which could be lowered to launch its own separate attacks.

HMS Conqueror soon after completion

These maritime camels
(“horses designed by a committee”) tried to do everything and succeeded in
nothing. With 6200 tons on a 270 ft. hull the freeboard was inevitably low (9.5
feet) and seakeeping was going to abysmally poor. Parkes writes “When HMS Benbow was rolling 5° in a moderate
swell the Conqueror worked through 18° to 20°. In the 1890 manoeuvres
she actually rolled 35° one way so that the cutter stored at bridge level was
washed from its davits” Service on these ships in such conditions must have
been terrifying and living conditions little better since “the bows were
usually buried in a cataract of foam and the mess deck on the main deck forward
became uninhabitable in anything of a seaway due to leaky forecastle fittings.”
The offensive capability was equally inadequate. The 12” weapons in the turret
could not be fired on a bearing of more than 45° to either side of the central
axis due to blast damage to the superstructure. This was underlined in a report
on the 1889 manoeuvres which stated that “What they would have become after the
big guns had been fired over them a few times is at present left to the
imagination.”

HMS Hero in an exercise to repel torpedo-boat attack

Happily this poor seakeeping capability was recognised by the
navy and except for manoeuvres (always in sight of land) these expensive ships
were relegated to duties that kept them in port. Conqueror became the tender to the gunnery training school Cambridge at Devonport in 1889, two
years after launch, and was paid off in 1902. Heroled a similar existence at the
gunnery school Excellent at
Portsmouth, ending up as a target ship and sunk on the Kentish Knock in 1908.
Despite their humdrum lives both ships looked magnificent in Victorian livery and
Hero was to gain immortality of a
sort on the Player’s Navy Cut logo.

And an afterthought – given that all ships are female,
should this misconceived vessel have been named HMS Heroine?

Monday, 28 October 2013

Some musings on a historical
period that fascinates me, the latter half of the 19th Century, "the day before yesterday" in historical terms

In the popular mind in Britain the
Victorian era, indeed the entire period from Waterloo in 1815 to the opening of
the Great War in 1914, is often seen as something of a golden age of peace. So
too it was for Britain, interrupted only by small wars in distant places, and
two medium ones in the Crimea and South Africa. From a British perspective this
perception was largely correct, mainly because whatever fighting was involved
was done by the top and bottom layers of society – the sons of the landed
gentry and aristocracy on the one hand, and those of the underclass on the
other. There was little impact on the middle classes and on what was recognised
as “the respectable working class”.

Retaking of Suzhou city from the Taiping Rebels by Imperial Manchu troops

If a global perspective is however adopted the picture
changes significantly and the 1860s in particular may well have represented the
bloodiest single decade in human history up to that time. Conflicts that raged
at this time either during the decade or overlapping it, included:

The Tai-Ping Rebellion in Southern China, 1850 to 1864, in
which upwards of 20 million people are estimated to have died.

The American Civil War 1861-65, which killed more Americans (roughly
625,000) than all that nation’s other wars combined and which saw the largest
armies seen up to that time operating on a vast geographic scale.

The “Tripartite War” of 1864-1870 in which Paraguay fought
the three allied nations of Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay and in the process
lost 390,000 of its combatants and approximately 1.2 million of its entire population,
civilian and military. This equated to approximately 90% of the pre-war
population and the conflict is
regarded in relative terms as the most bloody in recorded history.

Prussia’s
wars against Denmark in 1864 and Austria in 1866 were relatively bloodless,
though the victory at Königgrätz in 1866 cost the Prussians 2000 casualties and the
Austro-Hungarians 31,000. These two “medium wars” were the prelude to the
murderous Franco-Prussian War which would break out in 1870.

As the decade opened
the Second Italian War of Independence was still in progress, winding up a
vicious campaign that had seen the French, Piedmontese and Austrians
slaughtering each other at the Battles of Magenta and Solferino in 1859, the
casualties at the latter being so terrible as to inspire Henri Dunant to
establish the Red Cross.

The French
intervention in Mexico lasted from 1862 to 1866 and escalated what would have
been a sufficiently nasty civil war into something greater in scope through
France’s efforts to establish the Hapsburg “Emperor” Maximilian as its puppet
ruler.

Almost continuous
Russian campaigns in Central Asia resulted in the conquest of Turkmenistan in
the late 1860s, with further expansion in the decade that followed.

The Polish Rising
against Russian rule was mercilessly put down between 1863 and 1865.

Civil Wars in Japan from
1864 onwards were a vital element in modernisers confronting traditionalists as
the nation faced the challenge of opening up to the world outside.

In 1868 the
vicious “Ten Years War” commenced in Cuba as insurgents sought independence
from Spain. This conflict was indeed the precursor to three decades of almost
continuous guerrilla campaigns that culminated in the Spanish-American War of
1898.

In Spain
itself the revolution that toppled Queen Isabella II in 1868 was the precursor
to several years of civil war, including the Third Carlist War that would rage from 1872-76.

The list
above takes no account of lesser colonial conflicts, or now-forgotten wars which
included the Colombian Civil War of 1860-62, the Colombian-Ecuadoran War of
1863, revolt against Ottoman rule in Crete and the Dominican Republic’s
liberation from Spain between 1863 and 1865.

Forgotten many
of these conflicts may now be, but each represented loss, tragedy and misery
for all those they touched.

Friday, 18 October 2013

In 1851 the English historian and jurist Sir Edward Shepherd Creasy published his “Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World”. A different outcome of each of these battles would have resulted in a significantly different course of world history, and as such they still influence the world we live in today. As such they represent major “points of departure” for alternative histories.

It is notable that due to Creasy’s focus on European (and North American) power, and because little was then known in the West about Far Eastern history, no battles were listed which refer to China’s consolidation and survival as an imperial power, the failed Mongol invasions of Japan or to Japan’s failed bid for conquest of Korea in the 15th and 16th centuries and the implications that had for subsequent Japanese history. The Mameluk victory in 1260, over the Mongols at Ain Jalut, in Galilee, which was critical in stemming Mongol power, was also omitted. Taking these and other Asian battles into account Creasy’s list might rightly have been extended to 20 or even 25 at the time he wrote. There is also good reason that he should have included the 1836 Battle of San Jacinto, which led in due course to United States acquisition of a vast areal percentage, and an economically vital one, of the modern nation.

Since that time various writers have added to the list of post-1851 battles. Given the increasing pace and scale of conflicts since then it is not inappropriate to add at least 10. As a starting point for discussion and speculation, and with all due lack of modesty I’m suggesting the 10 post-1851 decisive battles as below:

1)Gettysburg (and Vicksburg) 1863: though fought in separate theatres, but at almost exactly the same time, these battles made the defeat of the Southern Confederacy inevitable, not least by ending hopes of international recognition. A long attritional grind lay ahead but Union victory was now inevitable.

2)Sedan1870: Not only did Bismarck’s Germany crush France decisively, and usher in the new German Empire, but it was absolute enough to ensure that the French would ultimately settle for a peace that ceded Alsace and Lorraine, thereby planting the seeds for WW1.

3)Manila (and Santiago) 1898: Two naval victories half a world apart that announced the arrival of the United States as a global power and established its position in Asia that would be critical in WW2.

4)Tsu Shima 1905: Japan’s victory over the huge Russian fleet was perhaps the most absolute in naval history. It marked the arrival of Japan as a major power and encouraged ambitions that would ultimately lead to WW2 in the Far East and the Pacific.

5)The Marne 1914: Decisive in the sense that Germany could not achieve the quick victory in the west that it had built its strategy on. From this moment on Germany was on the back foot in the West. The Western Allies bought time that would ultimately lead to their defeat of Germany.

6)Warsaw 1920: Bolshevik victory in the Russian Civil War was almost absolute when the Red Army was launched westwards to carry revolution into Central Europe. The new Polish state worked a miracle in defeating it. It saved Europe but at the cost of stoking Russian resentment that would exact a terrible revenge in later decades.

7)The Atlantic 1939-45: Though the struggle to secure Britain’s supply lines climaxed in 1943, the fight went on from the first to the last day of WW2. Churchill described the U-Boat menace as the thing that frightened him most – and with good reason. Without victory in the Atlantic, no Allied victory in Western Europe.

8)Stalingrad 1942-43. The name says it all. No need to say more.

9)Saipan 1944: I’ve identified the conquest of Saipan rather than the Battle of Midway as being the decisive battle in the Pacific in WW2. My reasoning is that though Midway was critical in weakening the Japanese Navy, the United States would still have prevailed, though over a much longer time scale, if it had lost the battle. Saipan was critical in identifying the type of war that had to be fought to beat Japan, leading in due course to the decision to drop nuclear weapons, At Saipan not only did the Japanese military fight to the death, but huge numbers of civilians, including women who killed their own children, were prepared not only to resist but to commit suicide rather than surrender. This was the first US encounter with a Japanese civilian population and it highlighted just how costly an invasion of the Japanese Home Islands would be. From this point on I believe that use of nuclear weapons was unavoidable.

10)The Battle That Never Was 1983-90: The US commitment to the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI – “Star Wars”), whether it was ever technically feasible or not at the time, was believed to be feasible by the Soviets. Their military budgets were already an unsustainable percentage of their total economy and the pressure to compete with Star Wars was possibly the greatest single factor in bringing about the ultimate collapse of the Soviet Union. Not a shot was fired and the tyranny hundreds of millions had lived under for seven decades died not with a bang but a whimper.

The list above is obviously subjective and I’d be welcome to hear comments.

Warsaw 1920: The Miracle of the VistulaPoles advance past Marshal Pilsudski to achieve the impossible

About Me

My "Dawlish Chronicles" are set in the late 19th Century and reflect my deep interest in the politics, attitudes and technology of the period. The fifth novel in the series, “Britannia’s Amazon” is now available in both paperback and Kindle formats. It follows the four earlier Dawlish Chronicles, "Britannia's Wolf", "Britannia's Reach”, "Britannia's Shark" and "Britannia's Spartan". Click on the book covers below to learn more or to purchase.
I’ve had an adventurous career in the international energy industry and am proud of having worked in every continent except Antarctica. History is a driving passion in my life and I have travelled widely to visit sites of historical significance, many insights gained in this way being reflected in my writing. I welcome contact on Facebook and via this Blog. My website is www.dawlishchronicles.com and its “Conflict” section has a large number of articles on topics from the mid-18th Century to the early 20th Century.